Loyalty
by Lover's-Lament
Summary: Continuation of One Mistake, short one-shot (or two shot if I decide to add one more chapter). Riddick doesn't love. He doesn't know how. But he knows loyalty, and now that he's not running for his life so much, he has somebody he needs to see. But does she want to see him? TW: Domestic abuse mention
1. Loyalty

For possibly the first time in his life, Riddick felt something akin to nervousness. It wasn't quite nervousness, more apprehension or wariness, like a dog approaching a strange thing it doesn't recognise the smell of. He wasn't sure this was a good idea - wasn't sure she would want to see him, or, in fact, want anything to do with him at all. But he held onto a blind loyalty that most humans wouldn't understand, and instructed his various peons to land the ship in port on the nameless planet. He was impressed - if he hadn't specifically been following her movements, he would have never guessed that she would be here. It was a big universe and it was easy to hide within it - well, for some people. Riddick was a little too conspicuous to settle down in a city and pretend to be a normal man with a job and a house. The mere idea of it made him uncomfortable. He instructed the nameless necromongers to watch the ship and make themselves useful, before disappearing into the shadows and making his way to a nondescript house on a nondescript street, completely ordinary in every way except for who was inside.

He was less impressed with the lack of security that she'd put on her own home. It took him less than a minute to get inside, and he didn't even have to break anything - well, other than the lock on the back door, but that hardly counted. The door was still attached to its frame after all. He closed the back door behind him with a soft click, and looked around, at the home that she'd made for herself in their five years apart.

The kitchen was very neat. Everything was spotless, with not a single dirty dish in sight. The linens were folded very precisely on the table, which bore not a single crumb or stain to indicate that anybody had ever eaten or drunk at it. The immaculate nature of it made him nervous. He sat with his back to the wall, drinking a cup of tea as he evaluated every potential exit and entry point. He'd already taken note of the contents of the fridge – and helped himself to some roast beef and most of a carton of milk – and stalked idly through the rest of the house. There had been free weights in one of the rooms, and a man's set of shirts sitting neatly folded and ironed on a dresser, with the iron still warm to the touch. There were, in fact, very few signs of a female presence anywhere in the house – all of the drawers were full of male clothes save the very bottom one, which had very plain and dowdy blouses and a single solitary skirt that looked like it hadn't been worn in years. They didn't smell right when he put them up to his nose. Not like how he remembered her smelling. The bathroom had male shaving equipment and male hair products in the cabinet. He knew she lived here – had paid good money to make sure that he always knew where she was in the last five years. There was a single picture of her next to a man who had his arm around her waist. He had carried it with him into the kitchen. The man, he noticed with some small flash of interest, bore some very familiar traits – tall, shaved head, muscular. He allowed a ghost of a smile to pass over his face, but it passed quickly as he looked back at her face. Although she was smiling in the picture, the picture felt off to him, though he didn't know why.

Before he could dwell on it further, the front door opened and a familiar figure appeared, carrying some groceries in one arm. It had been five years since he'd last seen her, but she looked much the same – her hair was pulled back in a very severe ponytail, and her glasses were gone, but she was unmistakably Alicia. She squinted as she entered the house - he had closed all the curtains and turned off all the lights, creating an artificial night in the middle of the day. He was just more comfortable that way. It also meant that although he could see her clearly, she could not see him. He looked her over as she turned to shut the door – she was wearing a shapeless shirt that showed no hint of her curves, and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her. She looked, all in all, like she was trying very hard to pretend that she wasn't a female at all. She reached for the light switch as she walked into the kitchen.

"I'd rather you didn't" He said casually, which caused her to drop the groceries in her hand, which hit the floor with a shattering sound as something inside the bag broke. She scowled and dropped to her knees without even looking at him, gathering the groceries back towards her.

"What are you doing here?" She said heatedly. Riddick started to open his mouth to answer, but she continued before he had a chance. "You're not supposed to be home until 5. Why can't I turn the lights on? Some new rule we're enacting for my existence?" This caused a moment's pause. She thought he was her live-in lover. That could be fun. He kept his mouth shut for the moment, smirking to himself. If he kept his eyes averted, he could probably drag this on for a little while yet. She dropped the groceries on the counter, and then fumbled in the dark towards the closet, presumably to retrieve a broom to sweep up the glass. In the dark, however, she only managed to step on the glass pieces, crunching underfoot. She swore loudly as a larger piece stuck into her foot through the shoe.

He stood up from where he'd been sitting, and started moving towards her, not hindered by the dark. He was only planning to pull her away from the glass, but as he reached for her and touched her arm, she flinched and pulled away violently, crunching more glass as she stumbled away.

"Don't!" She snapped, looking blindly in his direction, and he caught a flash of fear go across her face as she held her arms up protectively around her head. "I'm sorry, I'll sweep up the glass, and I'll even play along with your new game of hiding in the dark, just don't."

He frowned. This was not the way he'd expected pretending to be her lover would go - he had expected more flirting, maybe one heated kiss, before she realised it wasn't him. Her reaction, however, was more the reactions he expected from people interacting with him. But Alicia wouldn't react that way with him - would she? She didn't look flirtatious or happy - she looked terrified of him. He looked at her more closely, then pushed her arm swiftly to one side and grabbed her chin, turning her head towards him. She cried out at the rough contact, trying to pull away, her eyes closed, muscles tensed for a blow. He spotted the telltale signs of a fading bruise colouring her lower jaw. There was a long moment as she stood stock still, his hand on her face, her eyes tightly closed and her muscles tensed, waiting for the blow to fall. It took only a moment for understanding to blossom in his mind. This was followed swiftly by a familiar cold rage. He made a low growl and gently ran his thumb over the bruise. She winced, but her eyes creased in confusion for a moment before opening slightly to peek at him. As the seconds ticked past, she seemed to realise that she wasn't about to be hit, and slowly opened her eyes fully to look at him. He was no longer interested in pretending. He looked right back at her, his eyes glowing like a pair of fireflies floating in the air. The fear on her face dropped immediately, and the tension she'd been holding in every muscle of her body fell away.

"You're finally here." She said quietly, looking him straight in the eyes. "You finally came."

He was then startled by her bursting into tears. He quickly dropped his hand and took a small step back, as if she had suddenly contracted a contagious disease. A small part of him pointed out that this would be the moment to embrace her, comfort her, but it felt wrong and it was drowned out by the animal fury that was pulsing through his every nerve. So he just stood still, staring at her in the dark, as she cried. After a few minutes the tears seemed to subside as quickly as they had come, and she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Sorry," She said, chuckling slightly at herself. "I just thought…thought maybe you would never come. It's been so long."

He carefully reached his hand out towards her face again, cupping her jaw and turning the bruise towards him. This time, she didn't flinch, keeping her eyes on him, wincing slightly as his fingers passed over the bruise.

"Tell me." He said, his voice a low rumbling growl.

* * *

She told him everything. She'd left Helion Prime, with no plan or resources, and moved from system to system, working in semi-legal capacities to keep herself fed, trying to keep her head down. For two years she'd continued this before she finally felt confident enough to settle on a planet as far away from her past and her former identity as possible. Once she'd stopped moving, however, the nightmares caught up with her, so she tried to sleep as little as possible, finding bars in low places that were open past the legal hours, where she could stay awake and drink until she passed out.

It was in some nameless bar like this that she'd met Daniel. She was drunk, the bar was dim, and when she saw him she thought he was somebody else (she didn't look Riddick in the eye when she said this, but he saw the faintest hint of pink flush across her cheeks). She'd thrown herself into his arms, blabbering incoherently, before realising her mistake. He seemed taken with her, however, and courted her, promised he'd keep her safe, held her at night when she cried, gained her trust so that she foolishly told him everything – the monsters, her true name, Riddick, the whole story.

That was when he'd started to impose the rules. First they seemed harmless enough. No talking to anybody else, because they might recognize her. Wear clothes that didn't make her stand out, so that nobody would notice her. Quit her job – he made enough money and she didn't need to risk herself like that. It wasn't until she tried to argue a rule that it became clear that his rules had nothing to do with her safety. He backhanded her square across the face and told her that he'd kill her or turn her in if she ever argued with him again.

"I wanted to kill him." She said, as she came near the end of the story, sitting at her kitchen table with Riddick, her hands clenched in her lap, a small bag on the table filled with what few possessions she still had. "But he wasn't stupid – he made me eat any food I made before he would eat it. He kept a hold on all the cash in the house so I couldn't go buy a weapon or a gun or anything I could use to kill him and escape. I'd already quit my job and I had nothing."

Riddick had not moved or reacted at any point during the story, other than another low growl as she described how he'd hit her. They had turned the lights on so Alicia could see and pack, so his eyes were hiding behind his unreadable goggles. Unbeknownst to Alicia, he had been watching the clock while he listened, watching as the time moved closer to 5.

"I did try. I tried to strangle him in his sleep with my bare hands. He woke up, threw me off…" Here she paused, looking down at her hands and rubbing at her arm absently. "He broke my arm and my jaw, and swore that if I ever tried it again he would kill me."

"So I did the only thing I could think of – I used the last of my cash and I told a man my name. My real name. I told him to find Riddick and tell him I needed him." She looked up at him and smiled. "And here you are. Finally. I knew you'd be hard to find, but two years…"

"I never got the message." He said darkly, the first thing he'd said in over an hour. He turned towards her as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I always knew where you were. Probably the same man you tried to hire. He didn't want to lose his steady paycheque by having me come rescue you in person."

"Then why –" She started, but he cut her off.

"Because I'm in charge now." She blinked at him, clearly at a loss. He shifted, turning away from her to stare at the door again.

"I don't understand." She said slowly "You're in charge of…what?"

"It's a long story." He said, without turning his head. "I killed somebody and inherited his army and religion."

"Uh…okay." She didn't seem to know how to respond to that, so she stood up and grabbed the bag, hoisting it onto her shoulder. "Well we should go before he gets here."

"Not yet." He looked up at her without expression, but turned his head as a key clicked in the door. Alicia suddenly tensed, every muscle going taut. He got to his feet slowly, like a panther getting ready to pounce on its prey, and stood next to her. He put one hand on the small of her back for a moment, and felt her relax slightly. "He and I need to have a talk first."

"Riddick wait –" Whatever she was going to say was lost as the door opened and Riddick sprang forward, grabbing the figure and slamming him up against the wall, one hand around his throat. He carefully used the other hand to shut the door quietly, without a flicker of change in expression. Rather than struggling feebly, Daniel pulled backwards, trying to get a hold to enact any number of self-defense moves against a front-facing assailant. Riddick didn't even blink, letting go with one hand, but before he could pull back into a punch, Daniel had slammed forward in a low tackle, knocking Riddick off balance. Daniel than sprang up from crouching long enough to start aiming punching at his kidneys and sides, in quick succession. So he'd studied in this. Riddick grunted in irritation before slamming a hand forward flat into Daniel's face, hearing the satisfying crunch as the nose broke and began gushing blood. Before Daniel could fully recover from this, he lunged forward, grabbing him by the throat again and slamming his head against the wall. He hung limply, dazed, still pulling at the hands at his throat weakly.

"I don't think we've met." Riddick drawled, without loosening his grip, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm from Daniel's face. He held himself closer to Daniel so he could drop his voice lower. "I'm Richard B Riddick - and I'm going to kill you." With that he slammed his elbow into the side of Daniel's head, knocking him out cold and dropping him to the ground like a stone. All in all the fight had lasted maybe a minute, and Alicia was standing in the doorway with both hands over her mouth, looking like she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or cheer.

"Is - is he…?" Alicia started, looking at Daniel's crumpled form.

"No." Riddick started wiping the blood on his arm onto Daniel's pristine shirts that had been folded nearby. As he turned around, Alicia had disappeared back into the kitchen. He heard a clatter, followed by the sound of drawers and cupboards being dumped onto the floor. He moved forward and glanced around as Alicia moved through each drawer, muttering to herself.

"Where is it where is it, where did you hide it you smug bastard - aha!" Triumphantly she yanked out a butcher knife that had been hidden underneath some towels. She turned towards the living room and stalked forward purposefully, pushing past Riddick, not taking her eyes off Daniel's crumpled body. She dropped to her knees and raised the knife, and he quickly moved forward, grabbing her wrist. "Let me go. Let me go!"

"No." His face was expressionless, and his grip was immovable.

"He deserves this! He deserves to die, over, and over, and over, and I want to kill him I want to do it, let me go, I have to I _have to!"_ She struggled, her voice rising into hysteria as Riddick's grip didn't loosen. "I have to or he'll find me, he'll find me again, he'll, he'll find me…"

She began to trail off, her voice coming in gasps and hiccups, and he pulled her away as she started taking frantic quick breaths, as if she couldn't catch her breath. He cupped her face and looked at her directly, eye to eye, his face inches from hers.

"He won't." His voice was quiet, and she looked at him, her eyes sparking fresh tears as her body began shaking. He pulled the knife out of her hands, which had gone limp as she began to cry in earnest, and put it to one side. "He won't because I will kill him. But not like this. This? Too good for him. Too easy."

"But you will kill him?" She said, her voice a hoarse whisper, her eyes shining with unshed tears that clouded her vision. "You'll make sure?"

"By the time I'm done," He looked away for a moment, looking at the body, his eyes clouding and his face becoming somehow shadowed. "He'll be begging me to."

 **A/N: Heeeeey guuuuuys. I'd be truly surprised if anybody even remembers Alicia's story anymore (I was 16 when I last updated it...9 years ago.). It's...got a lot of problems, but reading it over (other than making me cringe) also made me feel that maybe I wanted to write a continuation to their story. A short one. And then ideas ideas ideas and I had to write them down and make them go away. Yes I know that I had started a sequel (for the few of you who might remember) but it...also wasn't good. And wasn't going anywhere. So that story does not exist anymore other than in your memories. This story will not be long - there may be another chapter of them figuring each other out, then making final decisions, but maybe not. Maybe I'll leave it here. I'm cruel like that. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Glasses?"

Alicia turned from where she had been watching the stars go by out the small ship's window to stare at him blankly. He gestured to his goggles with one hand, lounging on the soft seats on the other side of the small space. He didn't really care why Alicia didn't have glasses anymore, but Alicia had been sitting in silence with her knees drawn up to her chest for the better part of two hours, and he was worried she was in shock. He didn't know how to start small talk, so he grasped the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh. They have eye surgeries for things other than seeing in the dark, you know." He was rewarded with a small smile at his expense. "Didn't even have to pay in cigarettes. Just normal money. It was a birthday gift from – "

She stopped there, smile falling away as her eyes flicked away from him, staring into space for a moment. She didn't finish, just turned her head back to the window, resting her chin on her knees. Riddick frowned, before reluctantly getting to his feet and crossing the space to sit in front of her, without looking at her. He cleared his throat, feeling supremely uncomfortable and awkward. He always had the upper hand in physical encounters, so to feel off balance in any context was wrong.

"I can keep you safe." He said finally, and then regretted it as he remembered what she'd said about Daniel's promises, so continued a little too quickly as she turned her head to regard him. "Not with me. If you don't want. I can find you a room. Guards. Servants. Whatever you want. You don't have to be alone. You can stay."

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up abruptly and walked away to the front of the ship, ostensibly to converse with the pilots. He felt uncomfortable though he didn't show it – he was not clear how this discussion should have gone, but had not been planning to have it with her after having brutally beaten and tortured her abusive boyfriend. He had come to her specifically to offer this to her, a safe place for her, because he owed it to her. He knew she had said she loved him, for however brief a time. She probably didn't even know that she'd said it, half-asleep and dreaming, after they'd survived hell. He'd lied to her then. He told her he was leaving her behind for her own safety, to stay away from him and his dangerous life. But it was a lie. He'd run away from her because the way she looked at him, the raw and bare emotions in her eyes had terrified him more than anything ever had. He couldn't give her what she wanted – those emotions had long ago abandoned him – so he'd run away.

In the last little while, however, he'd had experiences that made him realise that he was capable of feeling something for other people besides hate or indifference. Turned out even animals could feel loyal and protective. He'd also felt what it felt like to feel grief – an emotion he thought he'd lost along with all the others. After that, he'd realized that he needed to get the last person he had left, and keep her safe. He was angry with himself that in the time he'd waited, she'd lived in fear and torment, but luckily anger was an emotion he was familiar with.

"Why?" He turned to see Alicia standing behind him, her head tilted up to look him in the face. He'd forgotten how small she was compared to him – her head only came up to his nose. She looked wary and a little suspicious, which he did not think was a good sign. "Why me? Why now? I know you don't have any feelings towards me – I figured that out five years ago when you left. I called for you out of desperation and hoped that you'd come, but to be honest, until you showed up, I don't think I really believed you would. So why did you come back for me?"

All good questions. None of them Riddick wanted to answer. So he deflected.

"Imam and Jack are dead." Her face fell, eyes widening. Riddick was no longer looking at Alicia, instead looking slightly to the side, feeling a vein pulse in his neck as he remembered Kyra's last moment in his arms, trusting him to the last, and dying anyway. He had never felt guilt or remorse before. Now it was all he felt when he thought about Kyra. He felt the tension in his jaw as he looked out the window without seeing. "They died because of the Necromongers – the people I'm now in charge of. Kyra – Jack - she left Imam to find me. That's why she died. "

"I'm sure you did everything you could." To his surprise he felt a tentative hand on his forearm and he turned his head, looking at Alicia, who had small tears in her eyes. Just like that, without asking for further details, somebody had reached out and said that it was okay. That he could forgive himself for this one thing. He didn't want to, but he found himself relaxing slightly at the touch. He couldn't save Kyra, but at least he could still do this for Alicia. Keep her safe. The one person left who maybe didn't see him as a monster.

"So why? Because - "

"Lord Marshall" They both looked up as the pilot emerged, standing straight and looking just over Riddick's shoulder as if afraid to make eye contact. "We will be reuniting with the fleet in twenty minutes. Do you wish to don your uniform?"

Riddick made a vague gesture that the pilot seemed to interpret as yes because he began pulling out items of armour and putting them on an indifferent Riddick who put his arms out obediently. At the end he was impressively clad in his dark grey armour, with a billowing cloak for added effect. Alicia's eyes had slowly widened during this process, clearly unclear how to take in this new Riddick. She shuffled uncomfortably, and he could tell she wanted him to continue what he'd been talking about, but perhaps sensed it wasn't the time.

"So. Necromongers. What are they exactly?" She said finally as the cloak was attached, eying some of the ornamentation uneasily. "I'll tell you having the word 'necro' in the name does not fill me with expectations of happy rainbows and puppies."

Riddick chuckled, waving the pilot off, who bowed hastily and retreated back to the front. He sat back in the chairs, looking contemplatively out the window, trying to decide where to begin.

"They're fucked-up bastards." He said finally, leaning back to look at Alicia, who raised an eyebrow. "They think everybody should die so they can go to the some other 'verse where you're half-dead and half-alive. To them, dying is the goal. They want to kill or convert everybody. But they're effective, and they're powerful so...being in charge ain't half bad."

"So...what are you supposed to do as the...Lord Marshall?" She used the title hesitantly, raising her eyebrows as she looked over his outfit again.

"Take a vow. Go to the Underverse. Lead them to glory." He shrugged, lounging back in his chair, untroubled. "I haven't done any of that yet, but I'll get to it I'm sure."

"How are you going to keep me safe? If they want to kill everyone?"

"I'm in charge. I say what I want, I get it. I've had enough 'concubines' that weren't dead or converted when they left, so -" He paused, considering that maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that just yet, but Alicia, startlingly, started to laugh.

"Concubines. I never thought I'd see the day where Richard B Riddick sleeps with a whore and calls her a _concubine_. You're a Lord Marshall and you have _concubines_ , and you're in charge of murderous death-worshippers, and you have a cape." She pulled at the cape as she said this, to make her point, still laughing, and despite himself, he felt his mouth pull up into a smile. It's nice to know that even she could see the ridiculousness of the situation.

They settled into a comfortable silence, and she looked at him for a long moment. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but he felt better than she still could laugh. Maybe the Alicia he remembered wasn't totally broken.

"I'll stay. For now. Not like I have anywhere else to go." He looked at her, but she wasn't looking at him, having returned to looking out the window. She looked lost and small, and he felt that fierce protective instinct flare up inside him. He stood and walked to the pilot to send a message forward to set up the official mistress's chambers that were connected to his (he would neglect to mention to Alicia who the room was intended for).

In a very animalistic and distracting way, he did want her. Every time she was near him, he could smell her, a scent he thought he'd forgotten in the last five years, and it reminded him of the things he'd never done with her that he wanted to do. In many other circumstances, with many other women, he would have done it, without hesitation. He would have pulled her to him, and began kissing her neck and pulling her clothes off, and if she hadn't protested, he would have thrust into her right here on these cushions with the pilots in the front pretending they couldn't hear.

Whenever he thought of it, however, the image of her eyes when he'd left would float to his mind, the way she'd looked at him, not as an animal, or a murderer, but as a man. How she looked when she saw him in her kitchen, with no fear, despite who she knew him to be. She trusted him, even after he'd left her behind. He could have sex with anyone he wanted - he could message ahead and there would be a lithe nude girl in his chambers as soon as he entered. Two, or three, if he wanted. He couldn't explain it in a way that would make sense to anyone, but he wanted Alicia here and safe, more so than he wanted to have sex with her. So he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned back to where Alicia was waiting.

Alicia did not know what to do. Less than a day ago she'd merely existed – keeping her head down, trying to survive in her increasingly intolerable environment, while suffering abuse physical and emotional. Now, she was sitting in a very luxurious bed, while servants ran her a bath with bubbles frothing out of the tub. Riddick was Lord Marshall of a fanatical religious army, and wanted her to stay with him.

"Will there be anything else you require, mistress?" Alicia could barely look at the woman, who was barely dressed, and seemed a little too eager to please, but shook her head quickly. The two women bowed their heads, and left the room, closing the door behind them. She was alone.

Rather than getting into the bath, she continued to sit on the edge of the bed, her back rigid, staring out the window into space. Why was she here? What was expected of her? Surely Riddick had not offered this out of the goodness of his heart – he would expect something in return. And as much as Riddick thought she trusted him, she found herself reluctantly admitting to herself that she wasn't sure she did. These chambers were attached to his for obvious reasons. The doors did not lock from her side. The intention was clear. So despite when he'd said "not with me" in his initial offer, she had already begun to see a new role in front of her – a woman to fuck when he felt inclined, to be pampered and taken care of for his pleasure. A kept woman. She chastised herself for daring to think, for a moment, that he wanted her for any other reason.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She stood up, startled, and looked around, not sure what she should do. There was a long silence as whoever it was waited, presumably, for her to reply.

"…Come in." She said finally, and the door opened obediently, revealing yet another pale Necromonger, carrying, strangely, a toolbox of some sort.

"Mistress," he said, bowing his head slightly, before moving forward and to the door that connected the two rooms, kneeling down on one side, pulling items out of the toolbox and attaching them to the side of the door. She studied the man curiously – the first time she'd had a chance to study one of these Necromongers up close. He was very pale – no colour at all to his skin or his eyes - and thin to the point of starvation. He had two identical circular scars on each side of his neck – all of them did, and she had not yet determined their point of origin. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She moved behind him to see what he was installing – and was surprised to see a very crude but functional lock for her door that kept it from being opened from Riddick's side. It was barely more than a lever that moved across the opening, and she suspected Riddick could smash through it without much difficulty, but the meaning behind it brought so much relief that she laughed out loud, causing the servant to look at her with some concern. A few minutes later, he left, closing the door behind, his task complete.

Alicia tentatively reached forward and pushed the new lock closed. A barrier between her and the rest of the world. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled.


	3. A Monster's Agreement

Riddick lay on his back, spinning a shiv carelessly around his fingers. It was quiet, discounting the slow breathing of the two women who were sprawled next to him, sleeping. They had names, but he never bothered to ask them. They didn't care enough to tell him. They knew enough to call out his name at the proper time, and that was all that was required of them. It was a fine arrangement.

He was staring at the door that separated him and Alicia's bedroom. In the month she had been here, she had never unlocked it. She spent plenty of time with him during the day, following him about his 'duties', though whether out of genuine interest or boredom he couldn't say. He had seen hints of her old personality sneaking through - the half-smirk whenever she found something amusing, the way she picked at her nails without realising. There were cracks in the facade, however, that she could not cover up. Whenever he raised his arm he saw her flinch, however imperceptibly. This was immediately followed by an expression of guilt that flashed across her face, and a forced smile soon thereafter. All of this fell firmly in the category of things he did not know how to fix, so he did nothing at all, and hoped that in time she would heal herself.

Whenever 'night' came, she retreated to the room and locked both doors. He had no doubt she could hear his nighttime activities through the door, but she never commented or asked about them. Sometimes he could hear her crying through the door late at night, but he did not know how to fix that either, so he never mentioned it. He often checked that the door was still locked, hoping that one day he'd find it unlocked, though he didn't know what he would do if he did.

He was quickly realising that his attempt to keep Alicia here was not going to work as he had hoped. She was not safe. The Necromongers left her alone because he had ordered it, but he could tell they were bothered by her presence. They did not approve of non-converts on their ship, and he knew that most of them didn't like him either. He was worried about leaving her alone here. Images haunted him of returning to the ship to find Alicia in a line of new converts, blank-faced and pale, with two identical scars on her neck. They would claim a misunderstanding, a mistake, but the damage would be irreversible. There would be nothing he could do.

"Help! Riddick!"

Riddick shot up from his bed, displacing the dozing women without a second thought. That had come from Alicia's bedroom, a desperate scream. He pushed at the door and found it locked again. He paused, uncertain, before he heard her cry out again, clearly terrified. Growling low, he apologised in his head and then ran full force against the door, breaking the flimsy lock in two as he slammed the door open with his shoulder.

He moved into a low roll, coming up with shivs in both hands, scanning the room quickly for the danger, and found: nothing. The room was empty, but there was activity on the bed. He quickly stood and moved towards it, expecting to find an intruder attacking Alicia.

He found Alicia on the bed alone, flailing around in her sheets like she was possessed, crying out and sobbing hysterically. The thunk he'd heard was her head impacting the headboard as she writhed around on the bed. For a moment he stood stock still, for once completely stunned at the situation. She cried out again, her head smacking into the headboard a second time, and he quickly moved to the bed, grabbing one of her arms and pulling her against his chest to still her before she hurt herself. She didn't resist, but did not stop crying, crying so hard that he couldn't believe she was still able to breathe between sobs.

With no better ideas, he carefully began stroking her head and made low noises like he was soothing a distressed animal. Gradually her crying subsided and she seemed to fall back to sleep, her face slowly smoothing over into a peaceful expression. After she'd been still for a long moment, he began to gently push her back onto her pillow, but she moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his torso tighter. He couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Well, if you insist…"

He shifted, careful not to wake her, into the bed, letting her lie against his chest with her arms around him, and settled against the pillow. He couldn't help but stare at her as she slept, the only time he'd seen her look truly at peace. He lay his head back against the headboard, listening to the soft sound of her breathing, and before he could really think about it, he found himself asleep.

Riddick had lived in danger for too long to really sleep like a normal person. So it was that the second Alicia stirred against him, he was awake too, though he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. He felt her draw a startled breath against his chest, and waited for the shouting and accusations to come. To his surprise, she didn't say anything at all. Then, even more to his surprise, he felt her run her fingers gently across his cheek, before laying her head back down against his chest, above his heart, and seemed to just listen quietly for a while.

"You're not really asleep, are you?" She finally said softly, without raising her head.

"No."

"Why are you in here?"

"You called me." He felt her raise her head to look towards the door. He opened his eyes and glanced towards it, and noticed that not only had he smashed the lock, the door itself had imbedded into the wall and cracked slightly.

"...you broke the door."

"Yeah. I'll get someone to fix that."

"Leave the lock. If…" She hesitated, as if unsure how to continue. "...this. If this happens again, I don't want you to have to break the door again. And I…I know you won't come in here for anything else."

"Why did you lock it then?" Although his expression remained flat, he felt a small tension leave his body, as if he'd let go of a weight that had been crushing him. She trusted him again. She trusted him not to take advantage of her.

"This is stupid but I wanted - " She stopped to laugh to herself, sitting up, revealing that she was wearing a tank top and loose bottoms. He suddenly found himself very preoccupied with her bare shoulders, and the curve where her nearest shoulder met her neck. "I didn't want these people to think that I was your whore so I just kept locking it so they wouldn't know."

"What were you dreaming about?" He switched the conversations away from whores quickly, because honestly, when you had them almost every night, even whores got boring. She turned away, her face darkening as she drew her arms around her knees, looking for a moment like a scared child.

"The dark." He knew what she meant without her needing to say it. The planet. Those creatures. To him it was just one more horrible part in his life of innumerable horrible things, but to her it was probably the worst thing to ever happen to her. She had nearly died. She'd killed a man. She'd watched good people torn apart and eaten. And now the only people who remembered them were her and him.

"Got a funny story about a different planet where you had to stay IN the dark, or die." She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "Well really it was more of a twilight, but the concept was the same."

"...tell me about it."

So he did. He told her everything that had happened to him since they'd separated five years earlier. He told her about Crematoria, about the Necromongers and the prophecy, about Imam and Kyra, and finally about how he'd gained his current title. She was a good listener, and made no comment throughout the telling, just nodding periodically. He was surprised at how good it felt to tell the whole story to somebody who wouldn't use it against him.

During the story, a servant appeared with a breakfast tray and a pot of tea that Alicia had apparently arranged for every morning, and disappeared just as quickly. So it was that as he finished his story, they sat on opposite sides of the bed, eating pieces of toast and drinking tea. There was a small pause as they both took sips of tea.

"I once killed a man with a teacup." He said absently, taking another sip. She raised both eyebrows, glancing down at the cup in his hand, which was fairly delicate looking. "Not like this - really it was only a teacup because there was tea in it. But saying it was a tea cup sounded better."

"Right, of course. Gotta add to the legend. Intimidating." She nodded, but he saw the half smirk behind her cup. He suddenly felt an explosion of warmth in his chest - she was laughing about his tea cup murder, not staring at him in horror. She accepted it as just another of his quirks. He was a murderer, a serial killer, a terrifying nightmare - and she was sharing breakfast with him and laughing. It felt...good.

He put his tea cup down and leaned forward towards her slowly. He saw her breath catch in her throat as she watched him, her trembling hands making her tea slosh over the sides. He took her tea cup from her and put it down on the night stand before sitting in front of her, his face close to hers.

"I'm a monster." He said quietly, running his fingers along the side of her neck to her shoulder, feeling her pulse jump. "But you aren't scared of me."

"You saved me - twice now." She said, her voice breathy. Her body seemed tense, and he could smell her arousal in his nostrils, distracting and intoxicating. "You may be a monster - but you're my monster."

He kissed her then, roughly and hungrily, tasting the tea on her lips, and rolled over on top of her, sending the tray of food scattering onto the floor. She kissed him back eagerly, her arms around his neck, her hands digging into his scalp. He made quick work of her clothes, before ripping off his own and throwing them to one side.

Some time later, they both fell back on the bed, sweaty and panting.

"Holy fuck." She said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling, out of breath. "That was well worth five years waiting."

He made a satisfied growling noise, before rolling out of bed and starting to pull his clothes on. She sat up, watching him without comment, as he got dressed in record time and started to leave.

"I won't love you. I'm...an animal." He said, without looking at her. "I want you to be safe. I want to fuck you until you can't walk. But I can't love you."

"You don't have to love me." He stopped, facing towards the broken door, without turning. He felt her presence as she stood behind him. "You don't have to pretend. I want to have sex with you and I want respect...maybe some version of friendship. There's nothing more I want from you. I gave up on love around when Daniel broke my jaw. I don't have any childish illusions anymore. Last night and this morning? That's all I need. You don't have to run away again."

For a long moment, he didn't turn, barely even breathed, as he mulled over her words. Five years had done a lot of damage to the idealistic romantic Alicia that he remembered, to the point that she was willing to accept his broken affection, if that's what you could call it. Having sex with her had not diminished his desire for her - she had felt warm and willing, for reasons beyond obligation and money. He had forgotten what it was like to have that kind of sex, rather than the perfunctory sex that came with a whore.

"It's a deal then." He said finally, with a wry smile. He turned, dropping his shirt back to the floor. "And I can't help but notice that you're still walking so...I think I have more work to do."

-Fin-


End file.
